


The Parting Glass

by stonecoldhedwig



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, F/M, Slow Dancing, Slug Club, Snow, extreme fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:54:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28339548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stonecoldhedwig/pseuds/stonecoldhedwig
Summary: James wasn’t particularly enjoying himself—he’d been to a number of Slug Club events and they were equally as cringe—but he was Lily’s date for the evening. Where Lily led him, James would have gone a hundred times over.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter
Comments: 11
Kudos: 62
Collections: Wolfnoote





	The Parting Glass

**Author's Note:**

  * For [YouBlitheringIdiot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouBlitheringIdiot/gifts).



> Happy Christmas Mia!

Slughorn’s Christmas party was always a jolly affair. The house elves prepared such delectable treats as the attendees had ever seen—marzipan ballerinas with skirts made of sugar tulle that danced across the icing sugar snow on the Yule log; miniature beef Wellingtons that made mouths water with just the scent; mince pies still warm from the oven, waiting to be topped with brandy butter. 

It was busy, too—busier than the parties usually were. James supposed that at Christmas, Slughorn had decided to be magnanimous in sending out his invitations; either that, or there were definitely some people who’d snuck in without being invited. James wasn’t particularly enjoying himself—he’d been to a number of Slug Club events and they were equally as cringe—but he was Lily’s date for the evening. Where Lily led him, James would have gone a hundred times over. 

From his position in the corner, next to the drinks table laden with every beverage, James watched the scene play out before him. Slughorn was dressed in a startling green smoking jacket, with a matching fez atop his head, and was holding court in the middle of the room. Sirius and Remus were at the party somewhere; or, James thought ruefully, they’d probably snuck off to fool around. McGonagall was in one corner, hands around a gillywater as she listened intently to something Professor Vector was explaining, and beyond her Professor Flitwick and Professor Sinistra were laughing heartily at a joke being told by a wizard James couldn’t remember the name of, only that he worked at the Ministry. These events were always supposed to be like this, the important and the good hobnobbing with one another as Slughorn moved between them, his machinations accompanied by a slick, charming smile. James found the whole thing gauche. 

He offered himself a silent rebuke. He was being uncharitable, James thought, and certainly less than fair. There was, after all, a redeeming feature to the party that made all the politicking and polite conversation bearable. She was standing in the middle of the room next to Slughorn, now telling some witty joke that had the group around her—mostly men—laughing and looking at her with gazes that bordered on admiration. 

James raised his glass to his lips and watched Lily, candlelight dancing in the copper of her hair and glittering off the gold detailing on her black velvet dress. She’d bought it specially for the occasion, a parcel arriving from Diagon Alley with the dress wrapped in delicate tissue paper. Lily was endlessly practical, and there had been something so delightful about the way her eyes lit up at that dress, a gift for herself that she had bought simply as a treat. James thought she’d look beautiful in burlap sacks, but the dress really did look wonderful. 

Just then, Lily turned her head and caught James’ eye. He felt his heart stutter in his chest and took in a gentle gasp. All he’d done—been—at Hogwarts was summed up in the way Lily Evans now looked at him. She looked at him with a glimmer in her eye, the quirk of her lips into a smile hiding secrets within it just for him. 

And then it struck James, like a realisation that was so innate, so natural that he couldn’t fathom how he’d not seen it before. He loved her—loved her like dawn broke, a shattering of darkness. He loved her like she was the final breath in his lungs, the last name on his lips, the last light in his eyes. His heart would forever-and-a-day beat to the tune of Lily, and it would drum in his chest for her, rally against his ribcage until the dying of the light. Every fibre of him, every molecule of singing stardust would join in the same chorus: _Lily, Lily, Lily_.

James did not know what the future held. He did not know what next Christmas, or the Christmas after might hold—didn’t know if war would permit him another Christmas, or if Fate would strike her hand down at him before they could get to next December. But, where Lily led, he would follow. Standing there, their eyes meeting across a crowded party in Slughorn’s rooms, James realised that if he could not be without her then he had a question to ask her. 

At that moment, Lily excused herself from the group of admirers, and made her way to where James was standing. She laid a hand on his chest atop his burgundy dress robes, and looked up at him with that delicious, mysterious smile. When she spoke, it was in a gentle, caressing voice that only James could hear, and that felt as though she was imparting some great wisdom between the syllables. 

“Aren’t you going to keep me company?” Lily asked. “I’ve just had to pretend to find Bertram Aubrey’s joke about the three-nippled hag and the water goblin funny.” 

James chuckled, letting his hand fall to her waist. “I’ve been rather enjoying the view from over here, I have to say. You looked like you were holding court, surrounded by dignitaries.” 

“They’re all bores,” replied Lily with a roll of her eyes. A band in the corner struck up a long, cheerful chord and she shook herself. “Do you want to dance?” 

“Yes,” James said slowly, but nodded towards a tall set of glass doors, shrouded in glittering tulle, which led out onto the terrace. “But, what do you say to dancing somewhere a little more private?” 

Lily’s eyes followed to where James had indicated, and she grinned. “I think that’s a marvellous idea.” 

They made their way across the party and slipped out onto the terrace, the view greeting them utterly breathtaking. The inky darkness below was the lake, reflecting the lights of the castle out on the water. James heard Lily gasp as they looked up because, despite the snow falling from the clouds right above them, the horizon line was scattered with stars. They glittered above the crags and peaks of the Highland landscape, as though some god had strewn gems across the great expanse of indigo. 

James cast a hasty warming charm over them and pulled Lily close to him, one hand going to her waist and the other taking her hand. “Better, now you’re not listening to—what was it? The two-nippled hag and the water goblin?” 

Lily made a face. “The hag had three nipples, as it happens.” 

James laughed, the pair of them moving in time to the lazy waltz that floated out from the party. It felt so easy, so natural, for them to be here, dancing in their own personal winter scene, with the stars and the snow and the soft, caressing light from the lanterns hanging at the windows. He’d take this over any party, any introduction to an important person, any networking. 

“Should have gone for my approach, and just not talked to anyone,” said James. 

“Why were you standing in that corner anyway?” Lily asked, as James twirled her slowly and her dress fanned out. There was a tantalising glimpse of the top of Lily’s stockings across her thighs and James suppressed a groan. “Is there something on your mind?” 

“You,” he replied honestly as she spun back into his arms. “How wonderful you look in that dress, how mad I am for you.” 

Lily smiled and snaked her hands round the back of his neck. “Good thing I’m mad for you then too, Potter.” 

James grinned. “Good thing,” he echoed. 

They swayed together for a moment or two, as the sounds of the band waltzed through the open door and into the cool night air. Behind the tulle curtains, they could make out the shapes of others dancing inside the party; James felt a sort of delighted pride that Lily Evans was on the terrace with him, dancing with him, pressed up against him. After all those years of waiting for her, every single time she looked at him made James feel as though he was the luckiest boy on all the earth. He chewed on his bottom lip. 

“You look like you’ve got a secret,” Lily hummed, brushing some snowflakes from James’ hair. 

James looked down at her, at the way her cheeks were coloured pink from the cold, the way her hair was dusted with snow, and the way she seemed to shimmer with the warming charm James had cast over them. “I’m thinking about asking you a question.” 

“Oh?” Lily raised her eyebrows. She leaned closer to him, the mischievous smirk back on her lips. “Do you want to ask me, or am I supposed to guess?” 

James laughed. “No, no guessing.” He pressed his forehead against hers. He could see the snowflakes caught on her eyelashes, could count the flecks of gold in the green pools of her eyes. Really, this wasn’t out of character for either of them; Lily had been the first to tell James she loved him, on their third date beside the Black Lake in September. They were not people who did things by halves. The words, when he finally said them, came easily because of that. “Fucking marry me, would you?” 

Lily’s eyes went wide and she laughed incredulously. “What? You’ve barely been dating me for three months!”

“Doesn’t matter,” shrugged James, a shiver going down his spine at the way her hands threaded through the hair at the nape of his neck. “When you know, you know. There’s a war on, and I’m not taking any chances.” 

Lily’s lips were upon his then, kissing him as though her life depended on it. He wanted to hold them in that moment, suspend them in a space just out of reach from that relentless master, Time. James wanted to commit every minute detail of this to memory: the feel of her hands in his hair, the curve of her waist under his palms, the way her hair was waving gently in the light breeze that cast the softly-falling snow around them like they had been shaken in a snow globe. 

“Ask me again,” Lily said softly as they pulled apart only a little, her lips brushing his. "Ask me properly." 

“Lily Evans, will you marry me?” 

Her green eyes glimmered with the lights from the party and some small, tenacious thing called hope that was so very _Lily_.

“Yes,” she whispered, “I will.” 


End file.
